


Schrödinger's cat

by Charona



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Bad Jokes, Banter, Claustrophobia, Daniel being Daniel, Darkness, German GP 2019, Groping, Light Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, Swearing, Texting, of sorts, the lift incident, too many hot men in one tiny place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 18:50:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20068864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charona/pseuds/Charona
Summary: It’s a glitch in the matrix, a jest of God, really. Why else would eleven – elf, onze, once, yksitoista – Formula One drivers end up in the same damn lift in Mannheim. How would they possibly fit into it? And why on earth would they get stuck? But it really happens and it’s a paradox experiment, unparalleled and of highest scientific importance.It’s just like the theorem of Schrödinger’s cat: You’ll never know the emotional rollercoaster, the outcome and (most importantly) whether they’ll all survive this hell of a lift ride!





	Schrödinger's cat

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, guys, it's finally done!  
Okay, so, writing _that_ was weird on so many levels… But on the other hand, that whole event was weird, wasn't it?
> 
> This OS is for all the tumblr peeps.  
Pairing requests were Lando/Charles for **kazrihun** and Carlos/Nico for **I will find you, dear, I just forgot to save your name!** and… I kept it low-key, but I hope you guys like it!  
Have fun with this very crack-like piece of scribble.

Lando really just wants to go to bed.  
The whole day drained him of all his energy. The constant discussions about possible rain and the entailed consequences and risks have exhausted him beyond imagination and still cloud his mind. He is weary to the bone.  
Carlos next to him doesn’t look any better or fitter and has buried himself into his wide papaya-coloured rain jacket, which stands out like a light post in the dark and modern hotel lobby. Lando yawns, presses the button to call the lift again and when the shiny metallic doors finally slide open, he stumbles inside without really looking where he’s going.  
“Huh, careful.”  
Lando conjures a tired smile to his lips, when he sees Charles (and something tall and yellow in the background; blonde. Nico.). He more or less slouches against the handrail in his back.  
He has to stop himself from leaning into the touch, when Charles pats his shoulder comradely. He may be tired and the newly blossomed relationship between them is exiting and more than Lando could have ever dared to hope for, but he’s neither stupid nor reckless. Just tired and in need of the soft sheets of his hotel bed.  
He wipes his face and scans his surroundings. Carlos got drawn to Nico like a magnet, Romain and Daniil are deep in a silent conversation about something family related and Charles taps a slow rhythm with his shoe, trying to avoid to look at him too much.

Lando is about to start a harmless, easy-going chat with him, when he hears loud footsteps storming through the lobby.  
“Wait for us, guys!” 

The lift is about to close, when a wild horde of rugged and rumbled and wet formula one drivers squeezes into the tiny lift.  
Nico’s comment from behind “Daniel, you do realize, we’re not sardines, right?” makes Lando nod in agreement, but he gets overlooked as usual.  
“Ah, come on, we’ll fit.”  
And they do… strangely enough.  
Lando is squished between Charles’s side, who makes himself even slimmer than he is by standing sideways, and Daniel’s bony elbow. He can smell the subtle scent of Charles’s aftershave and the fresh rain and fuel sticking to Daniel’s shirt.  
_God, what have I done to deserve this?_  
Valtteri leans against the wall opposite of him and Lando finds it incredibly unfair that he still has enough room to chew his gum. 

The doors slide shut. 

Silence covers their highly improbable and unwitting gathering for a moment of motionlessness when Daniel, obviously hell-bent to raise awareness to exactly that circumstance, points at his phone and they all wave at the camera lens.  
As soon as the Aussie finally puts the phone away, the rattling of the lift and the soft whirr of the air conditioning are the only sounds.  
Until George hisses in pain.  
“Oow, Sergio, that was my foot.”  
Lando stops still for another second and then they all burst into loud laughter. Lando wants to cover his face, but doesn’t have enough space for that and when Charles’s hand lands on his shoulder he lets his head sink into the crook of his arm for a moment – or two.  
Even Valtteri snickers at the situation. At the fact that eleven – elf, onze, once, yksitoista – racing drivers meet in the exact same lift in a hotel in Mannheim. At the fact that they actually do fit into it. And at the very strange feeling they sure as hell all share in this moment. The comradery and abstrusity. The comicalness of a situation where nationalities, age bands, stages of success and jarring colours meet in a tiny loophole of cosmic law. Suddenly they are equals and close.  
Some feel the latter definitely more than others. 

Nico rolls his eyes after Daniel finally discards his phone and when the lift starts moving the sudden jolt makes him stumble against Carlos’s chest.  
“Oh, sorry.” He mutters and laughs nervously.  
“It’s okay. There really isn’t much you can do to avoid that.”  
Nico looks at the Spaniard, meets humour in dark brown eyes and smirks.  
“Yeah, but I have to say that I’m yet again astonished by German engineering. Eleven guys in one lift. Let’s just hope we don’t get stuck.”

“Reminds me of Finnish Saunas.” Valtteri deadpans from his corner of the silver box.  
“Uuuh, naked dudes.” Daniel jeers and snickers at his own joke.  
“Come on, Daniel, you don’t care, as long Max isn’t here.” Nico chuckles and ducks behind Romain when Daniel flings his Renault cap in his direction. The Frenchman catches it and continues his chat with Pierre as if nothing had happened.  
“You better be glad Kevin isn’t here.” Carlos murmurs under his breath and a triumphant grin splits Nico’s lips, when he sees something dark flicker across the tanned face.  
“Aaah, Senor, don’t tell me, you’re jealous.”  
“Me? Nah, certainly not.”  
Nico is just about to change the tone of their banter, ask in all seriousness and true interest what’s behind Carlos’s sour expression, when a loud metallic thud pre-empts his plan.

There is another bang, then a soft hydraulic whirr and – nothing. The lift stopped moving upwards. The air conditioning system stutters and stops still. The neon lights above their heads flicker and suddenly they are covered in darkness.  
They are stuck. They are _fucking_ stuck.

Eleven formula one drivers freeze in place and change questioning looks with the ones standing close to them – for they can’t see farther than an arm’s length.

“Did we just…?” Lando starts, but can’t finish his sentence, when he feels a highly unwanted but very familiar sensation creep up from the depth of his stomach. His breathing hitches and goosebumps spread on his damp neck. He blinks into the darkness and sees nothing but the bright green emergency sign above their heads.  
_Shit, not now, please._  
A soft sigh escapes his lips and all he can concentrate on is Charles’s warm hand in his back.  
Daniel demonstrates his interest in a music career by pressing every button on the control panel of the lift in any possible order as if they were piano keys. He curses in three languages and then lifts his hand in a surrendering gesture.  
“Sorry, guys. I think, we’re stuck.”  
“Should have had less from the dinner buffet, mate.”  
“It’s remarkable, Nico, really. The reasons why Kevin dislikes you so much are an utter mystery to me.”  
“Oh, come on!”  
It’s Charles who cuts off the banter between the two Renault drivers and that’s a big surprise for everyone present and himself, for that matter, but right now he couldn’t care less.  
While George, Sergio and Daniil try to get a phone signal and obviously find none, Lando is turning paler and paler with every passing second.  
“Hey, are you alright?” Charles whispers as quietly as possible. Lando squints his eyes and tries to calm down his rapid breathing. He shakes his head rapidly and tears open his team jacket. Cold sweat coats his neck, but he feels like burning from a fever.  
The walls seem to be moving, closing in on him, suffocating him. It’s too dark to see the ceiling, but he _feels_ it pressing down on him like a heavy weight and crashing him to pieces.  
Lando huffs and droplets of cold sweat start to form on his forehead. His hands tremble. He turns away and grips the handrail tight enough his knuckles turn white. The floor wobbles underneath him and Lando feels nauseous and dizzy.  
“Hot.” He murmurs and Charles watches in shock, as Lando sinks against the wall and closes his eyes with his chest rapidly rising and falling.  
_Shit, he’s claustrophobic. Why didn’t he say a tone?!_ and Charles Leclerc, the soft and well-mannered boy succumbs to ranting mentally while skimming through his limited options. _Fuck, what am I supposed to do?!_

Nico in the other not-so-far corner of the lift crosses his legs and fiddles with his sunglasses that became obsolete over the last few minutes.  
“How many formula one drivers do you need to get a lift running?” he asks with a shit-eating grin spreading on his lips. Carlos sighs and leans his head back against the metallic wall. “I don’t know. You tell me.”  
Nico tucks away his sunglasses and jeers. “Obviously more than eleven, because drivers are fucking stupid and can’t even start their own cars without fifty engineers and computers.”  
Romain turns around and rolls his eyes. Daniel on the other side of the cramped lift and apparently done with imitating Ray Charles laughs wholeheartedly. “Don’t let Seb know.”  
Nico looks at Carlos and winks, which makes the Spaniard roll his eyes. Nico throws a glance around, sees that everyone is busy minding their own business, and sneaks up to Carlos. He slides a hand along the silver handrail and leans in as casually as possible. He suppresses a fake yawn and lets his hand slip underneath Carlos’s shirt and onto to the soft skin of his naked back. Nico smirks at the strangled noise that escapes Carlos’s throat and savours his attempt of covering it up with a cough.  
Bright blue meets dark brown, when Carlos stares at him intently.  
“What are you doing?!” he hisses under his breath and Nico licks his lips.  
“Relax, it’s too dark to see a damn thing.”  
“Are you crazy?!”  
Nico grins smugly.  
“Maybe?”  
He lets his hand run over the waistband of Carlos’s loose sweatpants and sniggers hoarsely at the sigh he has to bite back. It’s purely Nico, really, the way he sneaks his hand into his trousers and squeezes his rear tightly. Effective, on point, daring. Something Carlos has missed so much since he changed teams. Lando is fun and all, but that kid is so head over heels in love with Leclerc, it’s soppy and disgusting. And he isn’t Nico. No one is like Nico.  
He feels his body heat, when he scoops closer and presses him against the cold metal wall. They stare at each other in utter silence and covered by almost complete darkness. Nico’s eyes are cobalt blue, clouded by heated recklessness and Carlos catches it like a disease.  
His focus darts to Nico’s lips and when the German opens his mouth unintentionally, Carlos can’t withstand the urge any longer and leans in to kiss him. They both stop still like frozen to place. Carlos remembers all the times they’ve been together, demanding gropes, teeth clashing, Nico’s firm grip in his hair.  
He suppresses the moan that tries to detangle itself from his throat with all his might.  
_Jesus, what are we doing?!_ His thought gets cut off, when Nico’s tongue licks into his mouth and his hand squeezes his ass again. Carlos’s eyes flutter shut and his breathing hitches. Nico radiates blazing heat so close to him that Carlos feels like he’s being set on fire. He lets his hands run over the fabric of Nico’s black shirt, pulling him closer still.  
It’s been so goddamn long since they’ve been this close and Carlos realises just now, how much he secretly missed it.  
Realising that he apparently isn’t the only one thinking that makes a hot shudder run down his spine and into his crotch.  
_Fuck, this can’t be happening_.

Carlos breaks the kiss, one hand still touching Nico’s chest (and feeling his rapid heartbeat underneath the thin shirt). The soft noise of their parting lips startles them both to an amount that makes them hold their breaths. No one seems to have noticed and Nico clears his throat loudly. Carlos fidgets for his phone and starts typing, feeling Nico’s irritated glare on him – then his phone buzzes.  
**”What do you think you’re doing?!”**  
Nico chuckles and starts typing. The bright light from the screen makes his features look harsh and casts long shadows over the silver walls. Carlos licks his lips absentmindedly.  
**”Having fun. And you?”**  
“Yo, Daniel, any signal yet?”  
It’s a decoy Nico’s placing, Carlos knows and the simple fact, that Nico’s hand still cups his rear and his own is still firmly pressed against his chest, does something inexplicable to his half-hard cock. He doesn’t even pay attention to Daniel’s answer, is completely consumed by dark blue eyes and dishevelled blond hair.  
_Jesus, this is just wrong_, he thinks rapidly blinking.  
He sees Nico’s smug grin from the corner of his eyes when he unlocks his phone in order to answer his text and realises, it isn’t. It really isn’t.  
**”Your room or mine?”**  
“Thought you’d never ask.”  
It’s a low whisper directly against his earlobe and Carlos feels his cheeks blushing. Nico smirks and squeezes his ass one more time before letting go and creating a respectable distance between them again.  
Carlos exhales slowly and lets a hand trace over the goosebumps on the back of his neck.

Charles bites his lips and shields Lando from the others despite it being too dark to see anything, anyway. He cups his cheeks and looks at him intently. Lando is ashen and his hands shake like leaves. They are still tightly wrapped around the handrail as if he wanted to rip it from the metallic wall at any moment.  
Thoughts rush through Charles’s brain as he slowly detangles Lando’s icy cold hands from the rail and takes them in his own.  
A soft whimper escapes Lando’s lips at the comparatively hot touch. His windpipe feels clogged and he can’t breathe, oh God, he can’t breathe, he can’t-  
“Sshh, hey, everything is fine, try to relax, chéri, everything is okay. See, Daniel has found a signal, we’ll be out of here any second, alright?” Charles whispers and it’s not even a lie, because Daniel does type frantically and his frown got replaced by an elated smirk. 

Charles focuses on Lando again, the green-blue eyes widened in panic.  
“Alright, just breathe, okay? Can you do that? Another minute or so and we’ll be out of here and take a long calm walk, okay? Maybe it stopped raining and we can go to the park. There is a fountain there and benches and ducks.” Charles smiles when Lando’s eyes fix on him and the Englishman takes a quivering intake of breath.  
“Maybe the ducks aren’t as polite as the ones in Monaco, but I’ll look after you, okay? You’d like that?”  
His voice is still just a whisper, but Lando nods and slowly he feels himself relaxing. The nausea still fogs his brain, but more air enters his burning lungs and the tight grip of Charles’s warm hands is a firm solidity in its fondness and care. They smile at each other in the dimly lit room and after a quick glance over his shoulder, Charles leans in and presses a soft kiss on Lando’s parted lips. It’s just a quick peck, their lips barely touch, but Lando’s heart skips a beat again and Charles sighs contently. Lando cradles his hands and lets his thumbs run over the soft skin of Charles’s knuckles.  
“Thanks.” He whispers softly. He still hears his own blood rushing through his ears and he’s still dizzy, but ever since he’s locked eyes with Charles and has seen the adoration in the oceanic green he feels steadied again, anchored.  
Charles just nods, but doesn’t make any indications of letting go of his hand. 

All of this goes by without anyone else taking any notice of the two young-guns. Romain and Pierre’s conversation still fills the room with the soft flow of the French language and George empties his drinking bottle with loud slurps, while Daniel’s rapidly tapping fingers on his phone screen build a monotonous background rhythm. 

All of a sudden the lights flicker and turn on again, dazzling them all for a second, making them groan in unison.  
It gives Carlos enough time to sort out his deranged clothes and scoop further away from Nico, who wipes his slightly heated cheeks as casual as possible. Charles squeezes Lando’s hand one more time before letting it go.  
The air conditioning resumes its work again and finally the lift starts moving.  
“Yes, boys!” cheers Daniel and gives Valtteri a high five, who looks like he hasn’t moved an inch in the past fifteen minutes – except for his gum chewing, that is. 

Carlos swallows drily and Nico takes a deep breath to chase away the heat spreading on his cheeks. Lando nudges Charles’s shoulder with his own and Charles chuckles softly.

An elated moan makes a circuit through the whole lift, when their metallic cage finally stops and the shiny doors slide open with a contented hydraulic sigh.  
They are met by a mischievously grinning Max Verstappen and a rather perplexed Sebastian Vettel, of course with his inseparable better half Kimi Räikkönen in tow.  
Daniel is the first to step into freedom and he gives Max a theatrical hug.  
“My saviour! I thought I’d never see you again!” Max looks slightly terrified. “And thank you so much, it was getting way too hot in there.”  
He says that in Nico’s direction with a knowing and smug grin, who instantly turns red as a beetroot.  
Max disregards the comment and shoves Daniel away from him with a disgusted shriek.  
“IIh, you’re soaking wet!” he bellows through the hallway and it’s met by Daniel’s loud laughter. He nudges his shoulder and they start leaving the unlikely fellowship behind.  
“I thought, you liked it wet?” he jokes and wiggles his eyebrows, one arm still blatantly slung around Max’s shoulder.  
Their banter is cut off by Max’s hotel room door falling shut behind them. 

Nico scratches the back of his head and leans towards Carlos. He murmurs something that suspiciously sounds like “My room, fifteen minutes” and scurries down the corridor, leaving a crimson red Spaniard behind.  
Valtteri furrows his brow, shrugs and hurries away.  
Daniil instantly calls his wife to listen to his daughter squeal and whine like he’s been doing for days with imperturbable (and pretty dubious) joy.  
The Frenchies are still deep in conversation and talk with widely sweeping gestures while walking down the hallway – toward the hotel bar to drown the disappointment of both their tremendously terrible seasons in silent company.

The lift is completely empty by now apart from Charles and Lando, who grin at each other shyly.  
Charles makes a step in Lando’s direction and puts a hand on his waist underneath the team jacket.  
“Sooo… What do you want to do?”  
Lando chuckles hoarsely and pulls Charles closer, snuggling into his warmth, his nose buried in the bright red collar of his shirt.  
“As much as I enjoy walks in the rain and seeing ducks. And most of all, seeing you befriend ducks. I just want to get out of this thing.”  
“Bed?”  
There is a smug promise hidden in Charles’s murmur, layered with a French accent and something that doesn’t fall far from nervousness.  
Lando grins and nods.  
“Yes. Bed.”  
He pulls at Charles’s hand and they leave the lift together, courage restored and their relationship deepened even more by this incident.  
_We’ll make this work_, Lando thinks confidently. _We survived this hell of a lift ride. We can do whatever the fuck we want_.

**Author's Note:**

> I asked my brother multiple times to explain the thought experiment of Schrödinger's cat to me and what can I say? I'm more a writer than a physicist, but... I got the basic summery by now, though, and maybe it helps clarifying the summery:
> 
> "Schrödinger's cat is a thought experiment, sometimes described as a paradox, devised by Austrian physicist Erwin Schrödinger in 1935. It illustrates what he saw as the problem of the Copenhagen interpretation of quantum mechanics applied to everyday objects. The scenario presents a hypothetical cat that may be simultaneously both alive and dead, a state known as a quantum superposition, as a result of being linked to a random subatomic event that may or may not occur."  
(Source: wikipedia, feel free to look it up, it's quite interesting.)
> 
> I do have a tumblr now, charonaraccoon, come visit me ;)  
Read you soon, folks!
> 
> Charona

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Lift Me Up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20181634) by [ZDcookie_996](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZDcookie_996/pseuds/ZDcookie_996)


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